


say something (i've got a lot to lose)

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Ambiguously Queer Rafael, Banter, Barisi Pride 2020, Discussions of Religious Acceptance, Dubious Medical Science, First Kisses, Get together fic, Happy Ending, Haunting, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Teasing, bisexual sonny, coma fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24854017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: “Don’t freak out,” Carisi says. He holds up his hands as if to placate Rafael from across the room.“Sure,” Rafael agrees. It’s surprisingly easy to agree. His heart isn’t even racing yet.“You’re freaking out, aren’t you?” Carisi, blue and ethereal as he is, sets the briefcase aside and stands. “C’mon, counselor, don’t freak out on me. I’ve been freaking out for like, two hours.”Or, Carisi's in a coma. Carisi is also somehow haunting Rafael. It all works out in the end.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 113
Collections: Barisi Pride 2020





	say something (i've got a lot to lose)

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to take the "character A is haunted by character B" trope, but without the mcd or unhappy ending. I'm super pleased with how this turned out, and I hope y'all like it!! I'm really stoked to be able to contribute at least one fic to the Barisi pride event; this fills the sides blue+declarations of love. 
> 
> big thanks to Han for beta'ing! 
> 
> enjoy!!

Everything feels muted as Rafael hurries down the hallway—the white walls of the hospital seem even duller than usual, the hum of people around him nothing more than buzzing in his ears. He’s polite as he can stand to be as he pushes past nurses, clusters of families, nearly trips over a toddler wandering about before he finally manages to find the right room. The door is ajar, and Liv is the only person in the room. Aside from the obvious. 

“How is he?” Rafael asks as his gaze drifts from Olivia to the hospital bed, where Carisi lies immobile and silent. Rafael’s breathing catches in his chest and for a horrible second, he thinks he might faint; his vision swims, his head gets foggy. He shakes off the feeling and blinks until his eyes stop watering. “How is he?” He asks again.

Liv’s hand finds his shoulder and squeezes. Her voice sounds far away, like Rafael’s underwater—like he’s drowning. “He fell chasing a perp down a fire escape. No internal damage but he hit his head. Doctors say he should wake up, it’s just a matter of when.”

Rafael swallows. He can’t tear his eyes away from the bandages around Carisi’s head, the tubes littered around his body, for air and intravenous fluid. The wires monitoring his steady heartbeat stick out like thorns on a bush; Rafael feels caught on them. 

He only turns away because of Liv’s pushing and pulling. She forces him to put his back to Carisi. “Olivia,” he starts.

“You can’t stay here, Rafa. I told you not to come.” She had. Because Rafael can’t do anything, and she knows he’ll just drive himself up a wall. Rafael hadn’t listened. 

Rafael can’t help his scowl. “How could I _not_ come?” He says, nearly a snarl. He sobers up quickly—because Olivia doesn’t look surprised by the venom in his tone, she doesn’t even look upset. She looks sad, but sad _for_ him, Rafael. “I had to come,” he says, softer. 

“I know,” she tells him, “but you can’t stay. Carisi would never forgive himself if you kept vigil at his bedside all night. The doctors have my number to call if anything changes, and Bella is on her way in to stay with him.”

“I can’t,” Rafael starts before faltering. A lump forms in his throat and he trips over nothing, trips right into Olivia who wraps her arms around him without hesitation. 

“He’ll wake up,” she says, soft but sure. “And I swear to god, Rafa, if you don’t tell him how you feel when he does, _I’ll_ tell him.”

Rafael gives a wet laugh. He lets himself be held a little longer, his own hands clutching at Olivia’s sides. Eventually he pulls away and Olivia gives him a gentle smile. 

“Go home,” Olivia says. “I’m going to stay until Bella gets here, but I’ll text you if anything happens.”

Rafael doesn’t want to leave. He also doesn’t particularly want to stay; the sight of Carisi wrapped up in tubes and wires and bandages hurts his heart. He feels like a coward for wanting to leave, but Olivia’s permission soothes the ache at least a little.

“Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll...I’ll stop by tomorrow, maybe. Check on Bella.”

Olivia smiles at him again. “Sounds good, Rafael. Get home safe, okay?” 

Rafael nods. “You too. Kiss Noah goodnight for me.”

“I will.”

She gently pushes him from the room but Rafael doesn’t put up a fight. He still wants to stay, doesn’t want to leave Carisi’s side, but he knows Liv is right. He can’t do anything for Carisi keeping vigil, nothing except run himself ragged. The best thing he can do is try to rest, buy a bouquet from the giftshop tomorrow, maybe figure out a gift for Bella or her daughter. He has no idea what that gift could possibly be, but it feels like the right thing to do. 

He steps into the elevator in a daze. He hardly notices the people bumping elbows with him, too caught up in his thoughts. The fog in his head carries him through catching a cab and walking up the two flights to his apartment. He tosses his briefcase toward his couch and is so wrapped up in his thoughts he almost misses the soft _oof_ of surprise.

Almost.

Rafael stops in his tracks and slowly turns to look at his couch. The sleek black leather looks the same as it always does, save for the shimmering, wispy figure sitting on the middle cushion. Cradled in his arms is Rafael’s briefcase; the leather of the couch bends under his weight ever so slightly. The blue glow emanating off him reflects off the couch and spreads along the hardwood floor like a halo. 

“Don’t freak out,” Carisi says. He holds up his hands as if to placate Rafael from across the room.

“Sure,” Rafael agrees. It’s surprisingly easy to agree. His heart isn’t even racing yet. 

“You’re freaking out, aren’t you?” Carisi, blue and ethereal as he is, sets the briefcase aside and stands. “C’mon, counselor, don’t freak out on me. I’ve been freaking out for like, two hours.”

“Shouldn’t I get a requisite period of time for freaking out, then?” Rafael asks, surprising even himself with how steady his voice is. “You’ve had time to acclimate.” 

“You’re a lot more level-headed than me, counselor,” Carisi says with a smile. 

Rafael stares at that smile. There’s something like elation in his chest—elation at the notion that, as bizarre as this whole scenario is, at least he gets to see Carisi smile again. It doesn’t last long, to be replaced with mounting panic. It’s a foreign feeling. Rafael Barba is not easily scared, does not simply give into panic. But, he thinks, what else is he supposed to do when faced with his supposedly comatose coworker is standing before him looking like something out of a Harry Potter film. 

“How?” He asks. 

“Honestly, I got no clue.” Carisi grins a little wider. “Been asking myself that for the last two hours. But I’m not dead, I know that much.”

“ _How_ can you know that?” Rafael asks sharply.

Carisi, of all things, laughs. “I can feel my heart beating.” He lays a blue hand over his equally blue chest. “Besides, why would God tie me to earth if I was dead?”

“No sins to ask forgiveness for?” Rafael asks, tone still sharp and an eyebrow arched. “No unfinished business?”

“I’m not dead, Barba.” Carisi’s voice is a little harder this time, a little harsher. He doesn’t bother answering Rafael’s only semi-rhetoric questions. “Trust me on that.”

Rafael swallows another snarky retort. “Okay,” he agrees softly. 

Silence blooms after his agreement. Carisi shifts from foot to foot anxiously but his feet make no noise on the hardwood. Rafael loosens the knot of his tie and jerks his head toward the kitchen. 

“Any idea if you can eat like this? Or drink?”

Carisi shrugs. “I figured you wouldn’t want me rifling through your cupboards.”

Rafael huffs a quiet laugh. “How astute of you, detective.” He motions for Carisi to follow but doesn’t bother to watch and see if the other man obeys. Rafael beelines for his liquor cabinet and pulls down a half-empty bottle of scotch. For a single, undignified moment, he considers swigging straight from the bottle, but he shakes off the thought as quickly as it came. 

He pours himself two fingers and turns to find Carisi opening his fridge. “You won’t find much in there,” Rafael says after a long, burning sip of scotch. 

“I’m seeing that,” Carisi says with distaste thick and clear in his voice. “Jeez, Barba, don’t you ever cook?”

“No.” Rafael hides his grin behind another sip. “In fact, I actively avoid it.”

“That isn’t healthy.” Carisi shakes his head and lets the fridge door fall shut. “Take out, then?”

“Menus are in the drawer there,” he replies with a gesture at the drawer to Carisi’s right. He watches Carisi pull open the drawer and dig through the menus. 

“Sheesh,” Carisi mutters as he pulls out a dozen menus. Admittedly, it makes Rafael feel a little hot under the collar with shame. “When I get back into my corporeal form, counselor, I’m cooking you dinner.” 

“Your corporeal form?” Rafael asks incredulously. “Who are you, and what have you done with Carisi?”

Carisi rolls his eyes. “I’m Catholic, you think I don’t know some things about ghosts and spirits? Please, you’re smarter than that.” He tosses all but one of the menus back into the drawer, and waggles the chosen one at Rafael. “Thai?”

“Works for me.” Rafael finishes off his scotch but before he goes for a refill, he realizes Carisi is just standing there. “What’re you waiting for?”

“I’m not totally sure a spirit calling into a Thai restaurant is gonna work out that well.” He pats himself down, going for the front pockets of his slacks, then the back, then the pockets of his suit jacket. “I don’t even think I’ve got a phone like this. So unless you want me using your phone, you’re gonna have to call.”

Rafael hums. “Fine, figure out what you want.” He turns back to his cabinet and pours himself the refill before pulling his cellphone from his jacket pocket. He sets his drink aside only to hold out his hand to Carisi, waggling his fingers when the other man takes too long to pass the menu over. 

“Pad see ew, chicken, no spice,” Carisi tells him before leaning up against a countertop.

“Color me shocked,” Rafael murmurs before dialing the number on the front of the menu. It doesn’t take him long to place the order for their food and when he faces Carisi once more, he has no idea what to say. 

Thankfully, Carisi takes care of that for him, as usual. “You’re handling this pretty well.”

“Well, you told me not to freak out, so.” Rafael smiles faintly.

“When do you ever listen to me?” Carisi teases back. He looks relaxed, standing here in Rafael’s kitchen. He’s stripped his suit jacket and left it crumpled on the countertop. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows. If not for the fact he’s tinted blue and see-through, he’d look like something right out of Rafael’s dreams. 

“Why are you haunting me?” Rafael asks after he finishes his second glass of scotch. His head is swimming already and he knows he should slow down but he can’t. He uncorks the scotch again and pours himself another round. 

“I wouldn’t call it haunting,” Carisi says slowly, “I’m not dead.”

“Semantics.” Rafael shakes his head as the scotch burns in his mouth. “Why are you here? Did you rise up out of your body in the hospital and decide my apartment would be the best place to loiter?”

“No.” Carisi’s laughing, but it sounds more disbelieving than amusing. “I just...turned up here. It wasn’t a conscious decision. One second I’m chasing a perp down a fire escape, the next I’m waking up here.” 

Rafael drums his fingers on the outside of his glass. “You’re saying the universe put you here? In my apartment?”

Carisi shrugs. “I don’t have all the answers, Barba. You know that.” He grins, self-deprecating and sweet. 

Rafael scowls. “Stop that. You know I don’t actually think you’re stupid.”

Carisi’s smile drops from his face. The blue sheen of his skin looks even more morose and unsettling without the brightness of his grin. “I know,” he says. He looks a little uncomfortable, a little pleased, a little confused. 

“Good.” Rafael knows his tone is clipped. He can’t meet Carisi’s earnest gaze, especially not when his blue aura isn’t quite the blue of his eyes. He drains what’s left of his third glass but doesn’t go for a refill. 

“I really don’t know why I’m here, Barba,” Carisi says again, quieter. “But I’m glad I’m here. I’m also glad you’re not freaking out.”

“Give it time,” he says, “if I see you loitering around my apartment tomorrow before I’ve had my coffee, I’m liable to scream.”

Carisi snorts. “I’d pay to see that.”

“Come on, let’s sit.” Rafael leaves his glass on the counter and motions for Carisi to follow. Rafael leads him to the couch and they both sink onto it slowly. Rafael has about a million questions—namely, why can Carisi interact with everything around him like a normal human but be _blue_ of all things? Why doesn’t he make noise aside from talking? _Why is he here_ —but swallows the ones he knows Carisi can’t answer. Instead, he settles for, “Why?”

At Carisi’s confused look, Rafael elaborates. “Why are you glad you’re here? Wouldn’t you rather be with your family?”

Carisi shifts on the couch, looking uncomfortable. “I mean, yeah, it wouldn’t be so bad to be with some family. Bella’s place is kinda cramped, though. And my mom would just fret over me, you know? I don’t wanna put her through that.”

“But you’re perfectly fine to put me through it.”

“You can handle it,” Carisi replies swiftly. “You’re tough. Besides, not like you’re gonna fuss over me.”

Rafael doesn’t correct him. He doesn’t say anything, and Carisi fills the silence as reliably as ever. 

“You’re level-headed. You’re not gonna try and banish me from your apartment or, or something ridiculous like throw holy water on me.” Carisi shrugs. “Besides, I just...I like you, Barba. I enjoy your company.”

It doesn’t escape Rafael’s notice that Carisi speaks a little faster, as if to cover up his words. He doesn’t call him on it, though; he’s content to watch Carisi squirm. There’s a knock on the door and Carisi starts to stand up before clearly realizing he can’t be the one to answer the door.

Rafael stands with a laugh. Before he crosses the room to the front door, he looks at Carisi and murmurs, “I enjoy your company as well, detective.”

He turns away so Carisi can’t see his grin.

* * *

The rest of the night passes surprisingly normally: they sit and eat, watch some mindless television, make idle chatter. Rafael’s phone buzzes a few times, with texts from Liv when she gets home safe and from Bella to update him. He doesn’t reply to either of them because he doesn’t know what to say other than _I think Carisi is haunting me._

Awkwardness only comes calling when Rafael yawns deeply and murmurs something about heading to bed. Rafael stands and watches as Carisi twiddles his thumbs before rising as well.

“I guess, uh,” Carisi scratches at the back of his neck, “guess I’ll get going? I’m not sure how it works, really.”

Rafael sighs quietly. “You don’t have to go anywhere, Carisi. I’ll get some blankets.”

“I don’t wanna impose,” Carisi starts.

Rafael can’t help the laugh that bursts from his mouth. It’s rough and rude and leaves Carisi looking startled. “Carisi, we’ve long since passed the point of imposition.” He doesn’t really mean it, but he knows it diffuses some of the tension. “Your spirit is somehow haunting my apartment—and yes, I’m going to call it haunting because it’s easiest. I’ll rest easier knowing your soul...knowing _you_ aren’t adrift out in Manhattan somewhere.” 

Carisi’s mouth hangs open in shock. Rather than waiting for a response, Rafael turns and heads toward the closet that houses his towels and a few spare blankets. He gathers them into his arms along with a spare sheet before heading back to Carisi, who hasn’t moved and whose expression hasn’t changed. Rafael moves past him to set up the couch.

He throws down the sheet first; he knows first-hand that as luscious as the leather is, it’s not especially comfortable to get stuck to. He sets the blankets on the middle cushion as well before doubling back to his bedroom for a spare pillow. He sets it against the arm of the couch and finally returns to his spot in front of Carisi.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Rafael asks, “Did I kill you? Are you lying dead in Mercy Hospital, right now?”

“Jesus, Barba, that’s dark.” Carisi finally blinks and his mouth shuts with a click after his words. “No, I just...I dunno. You surprised me, is all.”

Rafael chews the inside of his cheek for a moment before speaking. “It shouldn’t come as _that_ much of a surprise to you that I care about you.” He bites his tongue on adding a qualifier like _a little bit_ , because that would be a lie. He cares about Carisi more than he’s able to admit, some days. “We’ll figure this out, and get you back into your body. Just sleep, tonight.” 

Carisi opens his mouth again but closes it after a moment. “Okay,” he says. Slowly, he smiles. “Thanks, counselor.”

Rafael nods. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sure.” He laughs then adds, “well, if we’re lucky, no you won’t.”

“If you wake up back in your own body after this, I expect you to call me immediately.” 

Carisi salutes. “You got it.”

* * *

Rafael wakes to the scent of fresh coffee and bacon, which tells him that either Carisi’s spirit (soul, whatever) didn’t end up back in his body, or it _did_ and the other man somehow made it over in time to make breakfast. He stifles a yawn and forces himself out of bed, grabbing his phone off his bedside table before wandering out of his bedroom. 

He’s checking his messages—and finally shooting responses to Liv and Bella—when there’s a light clatter in the kitchen. He looks up from an email from Carmen to see Carisi staring at him; gaping at him, more like it.

“Take a picture, detective, it’ll last longer.”

Carisi coughs. “Sorry, uh. Just weird, seeing you in pajamas.”

“I am human, Carisi. I don’t go to bed in three-piece suits like some kind of vampire.”

That gets a laugh out of Carisi. “Yeah, course.” He turns back to the stove and Rafael watches a blue, eerie hand reach for the spatula. He’s making eggs, presumably to go along with the bacon that’s sitting on a paper towel beside the stovetop.

It isn’t until Rafael’s had his first sip of coffee that he thinks to ask, “How on earth did you get groceries into my house?”

“Oh, I placed a delivery order first thing this morning, just for some simple stuff. Asked for contactless delivery, easy peasy.”

Rafael waits until a second and third sip of coffee are warming him up. “You used my laptop?”

If he had to guess, he’d say Carisi’s ears are probably turning red. He can’t tell, because of the whole blue and mostly transparent thing, but Rafael would put money on it. 

“It was just sitting on the coffee table. You really should get a password on that, counselor.”

“It’s my personal laptop, no one uses it but me, and it seldom leaves my apartment.” Rafael shrugs. “I take it you don’t have a wallet on you in this form, either.”

“I figured you could handle a thirty-dollar grocery charge.” Carisi turns to grab two plates from a cupboard near the sink and starts dishing them up. “Go, sit, I’ll bring it over.”

“This is my own house, Carisi. My mother would be appalled at my manners.”

“Would she really be surprised, though?” Carisi asks with a wide grin.

Rafael takes a second to refill his coffee before replying. “No, she wouldn’t.” He takes a seat at his dining room table and watches Carisi bring the plates over. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I kinda did. I was starving.”

“Is whatever they're feeding your body not getting through to you?” Rafael wonders, mostly rhetorical. Carisi answers anyway. 

“All I know is I woke up starving and craving bacon.”

Rafael picks up a slice and bites into it. It’s perfectly crispy and fatty—melts in his mouth after a delightful _crunch_. “I approve,” he says. 

Carisi ducks his head, but Rafael doesn’t miss his smile.

The rest of breakfast passes in mostly silence. Carisi takes Rafael’s plate as soon as it’s cleared and moves to the sink. 

“You don’t have to,” Rafael starts.

“Nah, it’s fine. Not like I got much else to do.” Carisi shrugs as the water starts to run.

Rather than argue, Rafael brings his empty mug to the sink as well before returning to his bedroom. He forgoes showering since he’s already running a little late thanks to the leisurely breakfast. He dresses quickly but as methodically as ever, dabs cologne behind each ear, and combs his hair into something easy but professional. 

Carisi’s lounging on the couch when Rafael comes to find his briefcase. Once he’s got it in hand, he grabs his jacket from the night before and digs the keys out of a pocket before draping it over his elbow. He reaches for the doorknob before realizing Carisi is still on the couch.

“Are you coming?” Rafael asks. 

“What?” Carisi sits up straighter. 

“You’re not going to hang around my apartment all day,” Rafael says slowly. “You can come to the office with me and I’ll put you to work.”

Carisi rolls his eyes. “Really? I’m in a coma and you’re going to put me to work?”

“You can either help me find case law to support the latest paper-thin case I have to take to court, or you can figure out a way to get your spirit back into your body. Either way, you’re doing it at my office.”

Carisi sighs but it sounds far from put upon—sounds relieved, more like it. He grabs his coat from the coffee table and follows Rafael out the door.

* * *

Despite the fact he’s being followed around by a blue and ethereal Dominick Carisi all day, Rafael’s day is surprisingly boring. He stops by the precinct, but the energy is subdued with everyone’s concern over Carisi. It’s hard to be mired in the sadness when he knows Carisi is fine, as fine as he can be. He has a meeting with Buchanan after lunch during which Carisi badmouths him quietly. Rafael spends the entire time snickering and it clearly drives Buchanan up a wall. The rest of the day is spent fielding calls from SVU about another case that’s hit their desk, and compiling notes for his opening statement for a case going to trial next week.

Rafael’s just poured himself another cup of coffee for dinner when Carisi clears his throat.

“Something you want to say?” Rafael asks, sipping at his coffee with one hand and turning a page in a file with the other. He and Carisi have been mostly quiet for the day, aside from Rafael reading pieces of his statements aloud and Carisi providing feedback. 

“I’ve got a list of theories,” Carisi holds up a piece of paper he’s been scribbling at on and off for the better part of the day. “Theories about why I’m stuck here. Or, my soul, whatever.”

Rafael hums and, after setting his coffee aside to make a note in the margin of the file, looks up at Carisi. “Do tell.”

Carisi clears his throat and starts to read. “Uh, gotta catch the guy I was chasing. Close the book on that.”

“Liv mentioned that the suspect is in custody and confessed to the three rapes, he’s not going anywhere.”

Carisi visibly deflates a bit before continuing. “I’ve been cursed.”

Rafael snorts and inelegantly chokes on his spit. “Cursed? Really, Carisi? If anyone here is cursed—”

“It’s you, counselor, I know.” Carisi shakes his head. “It’s as possible as anything else, isn’t it? This,” he gestures to his entire glowing self, blue glowing ugly against the brown chair, “isn’t _normal_ , Barba. We passed normal a long time ago.”

Rafael begrudgingly nods. “Fair enough. Who would curse you? Why?”

Carisi shrugs. “I didn’t get that far.”

“Next,” Rafael says sharply but not unkind. 

“Okay, okay, but we’re coming back to the cursed thing. Uh, option three, I gotta ask for forgiveness.”

“I thought you had no sins that needed forgiving.”

Laughing, Carisi shrugs again. “I mean, nothing I’m telling my priest about and saying Hail Marys over. But if this is God’s plan, or whatever, maybe God and I are in disagreement about what needs to be forgiven.”

Rafael looks at Carisi, who’s looking pointedly at his paper instead. The words are casual, aloof, but there’s an edge to them that verges on too honest. “I don’t think that’s the case,” Rafael says softly, adding, “besides, that sounds too much like you’re meant to pass on.” 

“Who says I’m not?” Maybe that’s the next step.”

“No.” Rafael pushes his file away and nearly sends his mug careening off his desk. “You’re not done yet, Sonny.”

Carisi stares at him, no gaping mouth this time, and Rafael meets his gaze. “Okay,” Carisi agrees. “This is all a dream.”

Rafael taps his pen against his bottom lip. “Yours or mine?”

“Well, if it was yours, I think it’d be classified as a nightmare.”

Rafael laughs. “Don’t sell yourself short, Carisi.”

Again, like the kitchen this morning, Rafael gets the sense that if he weren’t blue, Carisi would be blushing up to his hairline. “Right,” Carisi says, sounding a little strangled, “well, that’s all I got. For now, anyway.” Carisi hurriedly folds up the paper and sticks it in his jacket pocket. The yellow tone of the paper shines through the blue, turns a sickly sort of green. 

“Let me know if you come up with anything else compelling, Carisi. For now, I think it’s safe to say either I’m delusional or we’re both trapped in a terrible Christopher Nolan movie.” Rafael sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let’s call it a night.”

“Alright,” Carisi says, already on his feet. “Not gonna argue with you there.”

Rafael pulls a Bluetooth headphone from his pocket and puts it in his ear; at Carisi’s curious look, he says, “So I don’t look crazy for talking to someone no one else can see.”

“Gotcha.” Carisi nods and follows him out of his office and to the elevator. “Am I going back to your place, counselor? I can always see if I can haunt somewhere else for the night, if you’re sick of me.”

“Self-deprecating doesn’t look good on you anymore, detective.” Rafael glances at Carisi at the corner of his eyes and catches a fleeting, sheepish grin. “You’re welcome to stay at my apartment again.”

“Okay, but then we gotta stop at a bodega or something so I can cook dinner. No way we’re doing takeout again.”

The words send a wave of warmth through Rafael. It’s absurd, he thinks, how a word as simple as “we” can make him feel almost like a giddy schoolboy again. He does his best not to let it show as they walk out of 1 Hogan Plaza. No sense in getting flustered over something simple like Carisi making him dinner. It’s clearly self-serving. 

“Barba, you with me?”

“Yes,” Rafael replies without thinking. “You’ll have to tell me what to get. Can have people thinking the bodega near my house is haunted because they see a jar of spaghettis sauce floating down aisle eleven.” 

“Please, like I’m gonna _buy_ spaghetti sauce.”

* * *

Carisi makes chicken marsala for dinner with angel hair pasta and Rafael feels downright spoiled. Especially getting to watch Carisi move through the kitchen like he belongs there. It’s still disconcerting that he’s blue, glowing, see-through—but not as bad as it probably should be. Rafael’s mind can fill in the gaps: the dusting of blond hair on Carisi’s arms when he folds his sleeves up to the elbow, the way his blue eyes squint as he stares down at the sauce for the marsala, how his graying hair falls out of its gelled hold from the heat and steam. 

Rafael changes into lounge pants and an old Harvard t-shirt shortly after getting home, along with fixing himself a generous helping of scotch. Carisi spends the entire time making dinner complaining about how he can’t really change his clothes, and it doesn’t even bother Rafael. He feels rather like he’s being treated to dinner _and_ a show. 

“I’m just saying,” Carisi says as he motions for Rafael to come dish up, “that I’d kill to wear some sweatpants.” 

“Mm,” Rafael hums as he takes a plate from Carisi’s hands. “Well, hopefully it won’t be long until you can fulfill your dream. Have you thought of any other theories?”

Carisi seems to be deep in thought as they both fill their plates and return to the dining room table. It’s the most action this table’s seen in months, aside from Rafael slamming his briefcase down on top of it or burying it in spam mail. 

“I guess I keep coming back to the sins one. It makes the most sense, I think. Being cursed is pretty ridiculous.”

“You’re just now coming to that conclusion?”

Carisi ignores him with a small grin. “And this being a dream...it _does_ feel too much like something out of a shitty Nolan movie, so I’m gonna nix that one.”

Rafael snorts into his scotch. “Good plan.” He watches Carisi dig into the marsala. “What sins would you think need forgiving?” He knows Carisi is a good Catholic boy, he finds it hard to believe that he’s got any sin left unconfessed.

Carisi shrugs. “Being bisexual, probably. Not that I think I need to be forgiven for that, but…you know. Big guy in the sky probably has a thing or two to say about it.”

“You don’t sound very convinced,” Rafael says lightly, ignoring the pounding in his chest at Carisi’s casual revelation. Rafael has never considered himself one to assume, but it isn’t as though he expected Carisi to just plainly, calmly come out to him. He’d hoped, of course, but never expected it. 

He also never expected Carisi to be haunting him, so. 

“I’ve spent a lot of time making peace with the idea that God made me the way I am, and he’d have no reason to go back on that. Nothing about me is a mistake.” Even so, Carisi taps his fork against his plate, looking contemplative.

“Anything else?” Rafael asks. 

“Impure thoughts,” Carisi almost mumbles. “Not just, y’know, being bi, but…”

Rafael feels his cheeks heat and resolutely decides to blame it on the scotch. “I somehow doubt that God would keep you tethered to this mortal plane for opening a _Playboy_ now and then. Or a _Men’s Health_ , for that matter.”

Carisi shakes his head, laughing. “I don’t think so either, but what other options are there?”

Rafael, again, blames the liquor for the words that roll off his tongue. “Are you sure you don’t have buried treasure out there somewhere, waiting to be unearthed?”

Carisi pins Rafael with a wild look. “Where’d you pull that one out of?” 

“Nowhere,” Rafael says, waiving the question off, “it’s just an idea.”

“And you make fun of _me_.” But Carisi’s grinning, leaning on his elbow with his chin in his palm. He may be in shades of blue but his eyes are sparkling as if he’s his regular old self. “No buried treasure, Barba.”

“Good, because that would be ridiculous.” He drains the last of his scotch. “If it is sins, what are you going to do?”

“Probably head to a church, talk to a priest, say some Hail Marys. Can’t hurt, right?”

_ It can _ , Rafael thinks, _if it means you’re gone forever._ He gets up for another scotch. 

“I’ll probably do that tomorrow while you’re at work.”

Rafael drains his drink and is about to pour a fourth when his phone buzzes from the living room. He leaves Carisi sitting at the dining room table and goes to find his cellphone instead.

> ** From: Liv  
>  ** _ Bella said you didn’t stop by today. Is everything alright? _

Rafael swears under his breath. He can’t exactly tell Olivia that he didn’t think to visit Carisi because Carisi has been a monkey on his back for nearly twenty-four hours now. He fires back a response about being too tired to see Carisi tied up in wires—not entirely untrue, after all—and pockets his phone. 

Rafael wanders back to the dining room to find Carisi washing his plate in the sink; Rafael’s own plate is sitting on the table, still half-full of food. He sits back down and eats quietly as Carisi washes up. As he eats, he considers the idea that he might come home from the office tomorrow to find Carisi no longer drifting around his apartment.

Of course, one option is that while Carisi won’t be a blue loiterer anymore, he would be back in his own body. It’s vastly preferable, for obvious reasons. But the other option weighs heavily at the back of Rafael’s thoughts: that Carisi might just be gone, altogether. He can’t tell the man not to do it, can’t be selfish and keep Carisi stuck here any longer than necessary.

“Uh, counselor?”

“You’re staying in my home, Carisi, you don’t have to call me counselor.” Rafael says it without looking up from his chicken marsala. 

“Feels weird not to,” Carisi admits. He stands at the sink still, arms crossed over his chest. “Besides, you don’t call me Sonny.”

“I would if I was the one haunting _your_ home.” Rafael finally looks up and gives Carisi a grin. 

Carisi mirrors it. “Fair enough,” he says. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“What makes you so sure you’re who I’m going to haunt? I made Rita a promise in our freshman year.”

Carisi snickers. 

* * *

Rafael is short the next day at work. It’s bad enough that even Rita raises her eyebrows at him, and she doesn’t bother asking him out to drinks after even though it’s Friday evening. Work doesn’t help, with Buchanan coming back around trying for a bogus plea deal and a victim recanting her statement and changing her story no less than three times. By the time the sun starts to set, Rafael’s head is aching and he’s scared to go home. 

Scared to open his door and see his apartment devoid of that blue glow that’s already become so familiar. 

He’s debating the merits of sleeping in his office when there’s a knock at his door. For a second, his heart leaps and he thinks _Carisi_.

Then Liv pokes her head in, and Rafael struggles not to let his disappointment show on his face. Liv doesn’t call him on it so he must succeed.

“You’re coming with me,” she declares.

“Am I?”

“To see Carisi.”

Rafael’s breathing catches. “Ah.” He tugs at his tie, and keeps tugging until it eventually comes loose. He curls it up carefully and sets it on his desk. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Rafa,” Olivia sighs, “Bella would really appreciate seeing you there. You may not being able to change his condition, but she’s been asking after you, and I told her you’d stop by.”

Rafael holds back a groan. “Alright,” he concedes. “No change to his condition?”

“Nothing yet. He’s holding steady. Doctors aren’t concerned, or at least aren’t letting it on.”

Rafael scoffs. He grabs his briefcase from the couch and follows Liv from his office. “How is Bella holding up?”

“She’s fine. Just a warning, the whole Carisi clan might be there.” 

Rafael doesn’t bother hiding his groan this time. “Nevermind, I’m going home.” Even so, he lets Olivia steer him into her car without much complaint. 

He insists on stopping by the giftshop and ends up coming out with his arms full of a bouquet and a large teddy bear. Between them and his briefcase in one hand, he’s sure he looks absolutely ridiculous being led down the hallway by Olivia. He puts the thought out of his mind—and it’s worth it, to see the way Bella lights up.

She looks tired, bags under her eyes and hair in a stressed disarray Rafael can relate to. 

“Mr. Barba,” she says, accent thick and strong like Carisi’s. “Thank you for coming.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it yesterday,” Rafael says without elaborating. “The flowers are for Carisi, the bear is for you.” Olivia takes the bouquet and sets it on the bedside table, amongst another two already waiting there. Rafael passes the bear to Bella. “Or, I suppose, it’s for your daughter.”

“Sophia,” Bella says, staring at the bear with wide, watery eyes. “Her name’s Sophia.” 

Rafael nods. “A beautiful name.”

Bella smiles then turns her attention to Carisi. He looks the same as he did two nights ago: bandaged, with wires and tubes stuck to him. Rafael’s stomach lurches. The heart monitor still beeps along, sure and steady, but Rafael doesn’t know if that means that Carisi’s sitting in his apartment, blue and glowing. 

“Mr. Barba?” Bella asks, bringing Rafael from his thoughts. 

Rafael turns his attention to her. “Sorry, it’s…” He swallows. “Were you saying something?”

Bella smiles at him, tired but kind. “It’s alright. I was just saying, the doctors have been saying he should wake up any day now. They aren’t sure what’s taking so long but they don’t seem very worried.”

“Olivia said much the same,” Rafael says with a nod. He can’t bring himself to look at Carisi again. “I’m surprised more of your family aren’t here.”

“Ah, Teresa has an early morning. Her and dad haven’t had a chance to get down yet, but they should be here tomorrow morning first thing. Tommy’s at home with Sophia. I just haven’t been able to leave Sonny’s side, you know? I want someone to be here when he wakes up, if possible.”

“I suppose Liv has been helping you skirt visitor’s hours here and there?” He asks with a glance back at Olivia. She looks away, the picture of innocence, and Rafael snorts. “If you need someone to cover a shift,” Rafael starts, but Bella interrupts him.

“No, no, I couldn’t ask you to do that, Mr. Barba. I know you and Sonny work together, and I know he thinks the world of you, but you got a life. Sonny would understand.”

Rafael nods. “Even so, if you need anything, you clearly have my number.”

“You can thank Olivia for that one, too.”

* * *

Rafael opens the door and the scent of spicy Italian sausage but his hunger is immediately overwhelmed by the sheer relief that he feels. His knees buckle with the force of it and he finds himself speaking before he can think better of it.

“Sonny?”

“Kitchen!” comes the response. Rafael drops his briefcase by the door and shuts the door a little harder than necessary behind him. He’s greeted with the sight of Carisi standing at his oven. There’s a tray sitting on the stovetop with what looks like zucchinis full of sausage and probably a variety of other fixings. 

“I take it the Hail Marys didn’t go as well as we’d hoped.”

“Were you hoping?” Carisi asks with a wide smile in place.

“If only to relieve your sister of her bedside vigil, yes.”

“Aw, man, don’t tell me she’s hanging around the hospital nonstop.”

“I offered to take her place but she turned me down. Said I had a life, as if I’m the one with a toddler.”

Carisi shakes his head. “Sounds like Bella. Stubborn is a Carisi hallmark.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Rafael shrugs out of his jacket and leaves it slung over a dining room chair. “What’s next, then? Are we going back to the dream theory? Cursed?”

“I, uh,” Carisi pokes at the sausage in one zucchini idly even though it looks plenty done, “I actually came up with another idea.”

“Do tell.”

“After dinner,” Carisi says. His tone is so firm, Rafael only considers arguing for a moment. He nods instead of opening his mouth. Carisi fills the quiet space. “I got some wine, too. In the fridge.”

Rafael follows the command and leaves Carisi by the oven. The silence follows them as Rafael opens the bottle and sticks the aerator in the top. He grabs two glasses and lets Carisi dish them up. It’s only the second night, but sitting down to the dining room with Carisi is already starting to feel like a habit. One Rafael isn’t looking forward to breaking. 

The food is good and the wine is passable—Rafael tells him as much and Carisi chokes on a bite of his meal. 

“Sorry, counselor,” Carisi drawls, “I’m not quite the wine connoisseur yet.” 

“I’ll have to show you a thing or two,” Rafael murmurs. He follows a bit of sausage and zucchini with a sip of wine and makes an exaggerated grimace. He looks at Carisi only to find the other man staring at him, mouth slightly agape and wet from wine. Rafael’s sure, were this a normal moment and not something out of a ridiculous sci-fi film, Carisi’s lips would be red and even more tantalizing. 

“So, uh,” Carisi says slowly. “You called me Sonny when you walked in.”

Rafael busies himself with eating. “I did,” he admits. “Must’ve been your sister rubbing off on me.”

“Uh huh.” Carisi sets down his fork. “So, uh, my latest theory.”

“I thought you said after dinner.” 

“Forget dinner,” Carisi says brusquely. “I, ah, I like you a lot, Barba.” A second passes and Carisi says, “Rafael.”

It’s not common for his first name to roll off Carisi's lips and Rafael immediately knows he’s going to become addicted to the sound. Rafael manages to collect himself enough to say, “I like you too.”

Carisi laughs. It’s a disbelieving sound, a little shrill, a little frantic. “Yeah?”

“I worried I was being too obvious.”

“Could’a fooled me.” Carisi taps his fingers on the tables anxiously. 

“What’s your theory, Sonny?” 

Carisi’s gaze snaps to him. “It’s pretty cliché.”

“More cliché than Hail Marys or being cursed?” Rafael smiles though it feels faint. _He_ feels a little faint. His heart is hammering hard enough to burst from his chest. 

“Way more,” Carisi agrees. “It’s got to do with love confessions.”

Rafael doesn’t even blink. “Really, now,” he says flatly.

Carisi’s grin broadens and the drumming of his fingers increases even though it makes no noise. “Yeah. I’m not sure if it’s me who’s gotta confess to you or the other way around, but I think either one is on the right track.”

“And you think that’ll get you back into your body?” Rafael asks. “I meant what I said, Sonny. You’re not done here yet.”

“I dunno, Rafael. I dunno if it’ll work or where I’ll end up if it does. What I _do_ know is regardless of what happens, I don’t want to keep going on without telling you how I feel, and especially not without kissing you.”

Rafael flushes. “Did you rehearse that?”

“Maybe a little.” Sonny scoots his chair closer it screeches across the floor, abrupt and sharp and Rafael would wince if he wasn’t so caught up in Sonny’s stare. “What do you say, counselor?”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Rafael says as he leans closer. 

Sonny meets him halfway and the kiss is like nothing Rafael’s ever experienced before. There’s no fireworks and the world doesn’t come shattering down around him. The kiss is oddly cold and refreshing, like a sip of water. It’s brief, too—far too brief, and he reaches for Sonny’s tie to keep him in place but his hands find nothing solid to grab onto.

Rafael opens his eyes urgently to see Sonny still sitting before him, still blue and still glowing. But he’s fading, any measure of opacity fading fast. “Sonny,” he breathes.

“It’ll be fine, Raf,” Sonny says easily, even as his eyes water. “Whatever happens, it’ll be fine, okay? I’ll be waiting for you, when you’re ready.”

“When I’m ready to what? To die?” Rafael asks, venom in his tone for only a split second.

Sonny shakes his head. “I’m waiting, Raf,” he says. “I’m right here.” 

Between one blink and the next, Sonny is gone. 

Rafael’s breathing stutters and his chest hurts, a sharp and aching pain right in his heart. It’s gone as quick as it came but in its wake is the ache of already missing Sonny. Rafael stands, chair skittering back, and beelines for his phone where he left it on the kitchen counter.

No new calls or texts from Bella—which is good and bad. It means Sonny isn’t awake, but it means he’s not dead, either. Or it means Bella had to go home, and the hospital hasn’t called her yet, and that will take time. Rafael is halfway through shrugging on his coat before fear catches up to him, keeps him in a chokehold. He can’t move, suddenly. He feels frozen to the spot by fear: fear that Sonny isn’t awake, won’t _ever_ wake up.

Everything passes in a blur. Rafael reaches for his keys half a dozen times but can never make himself pick them up. For a brief second, he considers not locking his apartment and just catching an Uber to the hospital instead, but fear keeps him rooted to the spot. After what feels like hours spent agonizing—in reality, only a few minutes, maybe half an hour at most—Rafael realizes he’s wandering to his bedroom. 

He strips off his coat along the way and falls into bed in his suit with his phone clutched in his hand. Still no new messages or texts or _anything_. Rafael twists to lay on his side and cradle his phone far too close to his face. In no time, his eyes are tired and dry but he forces himself to stay awake. Panic and fear are rising and raging inside his ribcage like twin typhoons but still he refuses to sleep.

Any minute now, any _second_ now, Bella or Olivia will call him to tell him Sonny’s awake. They have to, because Rafael doesn’t know what he’ll do if it’s the alternative. 

* * *

* * *

* * *

Rafael wakes to the steady rhythm of a heart monitor. His chest aches and his nose feels stuffy. His eyes are dry and crusted with sleep sand, but when he tries to raise a hand to wipe at them, his arm feels too heavy to lift. He groans quietly and turns his head. A twinge freezes him but only momentarily. He manages to get his eyes open and his head twisted to the right and he could swear his heart skips a beat, if not for the monitor still steadily ticking along.

There, in the chair beside him, is Dominick “Sonny” Carisi. He’s slumped back in the chair and it’s got to be awful for his back; his hair is curly and free-flying, and it would be endearing if the curls weren’t drawing attention to the deep bags under his eyes and the gaunt lines of his face. 

Rafael tries to lift his arm again, his left one this time, and succeeds. He wipes at his eyes until they’re no longer fluttering uncomfortably. He opens his mouth but it’s then that he realizes there’s a tube down his throat; his heart rate picks up, the beeping getting more frantic.

That’s what wakes Sonny up. He jerks out of the chair and nearly tumbles to the floor but regains himself quickly. Sonny looks at Rafael, then his heart monitor, then Rafael again.

“You’re awake,” Sonny says, breaking into a grin. “I gotta go grab a nurse but I’ll be right back, okay? Right back, I promise.”

Rafael wants to protest—he’s not sure he ever wants to let Sonny out of his sight again, if he can help it—but the younger man is gone in an instant. He’s not gone for long, returning with a gaggle of nurses in tow. Sonny stands back to let them work and Rafael drifts a bit, overwhelmed by the noise and attention.

The feeding tube comes out and Rafael gags only slightly. He gasps for air, heart still hammering uncomfortably hard; a nurse tells him it’s normal as long as his heart rate goes back down in a few minutes. Someone brings him mouthwash and helps him brush his teeth. It’s a little infantilizing, since his limbs are still too heavy for him to be as coordinated as he’d like. 

Eventually, though, he’s deemed well enough to be relieved of all the nurses.

“We’re going to keep you on the pain meds you’re currently but we’ll start to wean you off slowly. A doctor will be in shortly,” one tells him. 

“I’ll stay here,” Sonny says. The look on the nurse’s face clearly says she expected nothing less. Sonny’s by his bedside in an instant, one hand reaching for Rafael’s. “You’re really awake.”

His throat is sore but Rafael forces the words out anyway. “What happened? How long was I out?”

“You were taking an Uber and got t-boned. Honestly, the doctors were saying you’re lucky it’s not worse. No major internal injuries, fractured wrist,” he pats gently at Rafael’s right wrist, “and a nasty concussion. You were out for four days, that’s all.”

“That’s all,” Rafael scoffs. His head is heavy, thoughts swimming. “But what about you?” He asks with a furrow of his brow.

Sonny peers at him curiously. “What about me?”

Rafael opens his mouth to answer, but drifts off before he can. 

* * *

The next time Rafael opens his eyes can’t be much later. Sonny is nowhere to be found but there’s a doctor at the foot of his bed.

“You’re awake,” she says warmly. “How are you feeling?” She asks him what he assumes are routine questions. Things like his name, his date of birth, what year it is and who’s the president. He answers them all just fine and the doctor makes notes on the charts. She nods along as he speaks, asks a few other questions about his pain, about his head.

“We’ll want to keep you for another two days at least, for observation. While the injuries you sustained weren’t as severe as they could’ve been, you were out for longer than we initially expected. We’ll want to run some tests to make sure there’s nothing amiss but provided scans come back clear and you’re feeling up to it, we should have you home by Sunday, Mr. Barba.”

“Thank you.”

Sonny chooses that moment to wander back in, a pudding cup in hand. He looks at the doctor sheepishly and says, “A nurse said it was okay, doc, I swear.” It’s the same sheepish dream as before, except instead of painted in hues of blue it’s bright and pink and dazzling white. 

The doctor rolls her eyes. “That’s fine, but let Mr. Barba rest if he needs it.”

Sonny nods like a boy scolded. “Of course.”

“I’ll check on you again tonight, Mr. Barba,” the doctor tells him before leaving.

Sonny wastes no time in sidling up beside the hospital bed, wrestling the top off the pudding. “I hope you like chocolate.”

Rafael doesn’t think to answer; he’s too caught up in staring at Carisi. Carisi, who’s lively and warm and chattering on about who knows what. Carisi, who was never in a coma, and whose spirit was never _haunting_ Rafael’s apartment. Rafael laughs before he can stop himself, and he realizes belatedly that Carisi’s staring at him.

“I’ve missed you, detective,” Rafael says softly. 

“You’re just saying that cuz I brought you pudding,” Sonny retorts.

“I don’t care much for pudding.” Rafael motions Sonny closer anyway. “I need to tell you something.”

Sonny’s already stuck a little plastic spoon in the chocolate pudding but he sets it all down to stare at Rafael even more intensely. “Okay,” Sonny says, soft and serious.

“It’s nothing bad,” Rafael feels the need to clarify. “You’re probably going to laugh at me,”

“Well, don’t let me stop you, then.”

Rafael knows Sonny _will_ laugh at him, but that’s alright. The whole idea—the dream, or premonition, or sign, whatever you want to call it—is laughable. It’s pretty funny, undeniably so. Rafael also knows Sonny will probably tell Rollins about it, who will inevitably let it slip to Fin. Rafael knows he’ll have to tell Liv, too, and he’s sure the Carisi clan will know about it all before Sunday mass. 

Rafael doesn’t really mind.

-

“Tell me again,” Sonny asks Sunday night. He’s staying with Rafael for the evening; he swears it’s to make sure nothing happens to Rafael on his first night away from the hospital.

“Again, really?” Rafael asks around a yawn. He turns in the bed, leaning on his less-tender left side to stare at Sonny. Sonny, who looks devastatingly good in a faded Fordham t-shirt and baggy Star Wars pajama pants. “I’ve got a better idea.”

“A better idea like buried treasure being the thing tying my soul to the mortal plane?” Sonny asks even as he scoots closer. His knees knock against Rafael’s.

“Technically, since the entire thing was in my head, _all_ the ideas in the dream were in fact _my_ ideas.”

“But buried treasure, really?”

“Shut up,” Rafael says without heat.

Sonny agrees easily. “Okay. What’s your idea that’s so much better than telling me the long, intensely detailed dream you had while comatose that made you realize how much you liked me?”

Rafael doesn’t bother arguing semantics; it isn’t as though he was unaware of his feelings for Sonny prior to his coma, nor was it some earth-shattering revelation he had while in his coma. The only thing his dream made him realize is how foolish he was to be dancing around it and waiting for...he didn’t even know what.

“You should kiss me,” Rafael murmurs, tilting his head invitingly.

Sonny laughs. “You were right, that _is_ a better idea.” He cups Rafael’s cheek delicately and kisses him soundly. 

This kiss, like the kiss they shared in the hospital the night Rafael woke up, like all the kisses they’ve shared since, is vastly different from the kiss in Rafael’s dream. It’s warm, not cold; it’s not refreshing, it’s invigorating. It’s sweet and soothing and lasts longer than a moment. It lasts until they’re both breathing a little heavy, until their lips are turning kiss-bitten pink. 

“Way better idea,” Sonny says again, leaning in for another kiss.

“I’m glad you agree.” 

Sonny smiles into the kiss and Rafael smiles back. 


End file.
